Team Summer standard-bearer @CraigHarmann has been flying that standard extra-high in the comments over our unseasonably warm Christmas week weather, and he said something a few days back here that really stuck with me:
It reminded me of something a former coworker at a certain airplane company that makes plane starting with the number “7” said to me 20+ years ago, circa 2002 or 2003-ish, when I was a young and spry sysadmin. The guy’s name was Ron, and Ron had relocated from Seattle to Houston when number-7-airplane-company’s Joint Strike Fighter contract bid hadn’t been selected by the military.
Ron was in his 50s and was a life-long Washingtonian, having grown up in Everett and lived in that area his entire life. One typical Houston August afternoon, when the mercury had tipped the century mark and being outside was an ordeal, another coworker in our shared 4-person cube casually asked Ron how much he regretted leaving Seattle for the swampy bayou of Houston.
“Are you kidding?” Ron replied. (I mean, I’m paraphrasing from a two-decades-and-change-old memory, but this is more or less how it went.) “I can’t get enough of this. I don’t have to shovel snow. I can garden year-round. There’s no ice to drive on. My joints don’t ache, my nose isn’t dry. This is incredible. I should have moved here sooner!”
This kinda broke my brain. How could anyone like this?! But the thought that followed that was, “…..I bet Ron used to think the same thing scraping ice off his windshield at 6am to commute to work.”
I guess, if there’s a point, it’s that hating the climate where you’re from seems to be kinda universal, and I’m a Houston boy born and raised, lol—sick of hurricane season and ready to shovel snow
The ideal retirement for my wife and me would be some kind of Colorado semi-mountain town, close enough to civilization to have high-speed broadband internet, but otherwise the kind of place where a good snowfall could erase the outside world.
But I don’t begrudge Ron his summers. Houston is the place he chose ![]()